Obviously, if he wanted the curse lifted, he’d had no choice but to bring her with him, but it was no easy task to ride behind her, with his legs straddled around her sweet, warm bottom while she swayed back and forth in the saddle, rubbing up against the insides of his thighs.
He was in a constant state of arousal and was half-tempted to stop everything, dismount, and take her heartily up against some arbitrary tree, while the rain poured down all around them and drenched them both to the bone.
It seemed his careful plan to bully and coerce her was now a crashing wreck. She had turned the tables on him, and was now partly in control, after having set the rules in the library.
It was utter madness. He couldn’t imagine how it could be worse.
And then the wind began.
“I’m freezing!” Raonaid shouted.
He wrapped his tartan around her and held her close in the saddle to stave off the chill, while he hissed a few unsophisticated oaths inside his throbbing head.
“There’s a village not far from here,” he said in defeat. “We’ll go and dry out, and I’ll get us a second horse.”
He couldn’t ride with her anymore. Not like this.
She turned in the saddle to look at him through the driving rain. “Are you not worried the magistrate will catch us?”
“We won’t stay long.” He urged Goliath into a gallop.
By the time they rode into the village, splattering through puddles of muck in the street, they were both soaked and shivering.
“Take the pins out of your hair,” he said as they trotted to the stable and paused under the dripping overhang. “Let it fall loose, and give me your jewels.”
“But these belong to the Drumloch estate,” she replied, teeth chattering. “I am responsible for them, and they are worth a great deal.”
“If you walk in there wearing them, lass, I promise you’ll leave without them. Hand them over. I won’t let anything happen to them.”
She hesitated, then removed the pearl and emerald necklace and surrendered it. He dropped it into his sporran while she removed the earrings and handed them over as well.
Lachlan swung out of the saddle and held out his arms. She accepted his assistance without complaint, and a moment later was standing before him, letting down her hair. It fell wetly onto her soft, ivory shoulders while rainwater glistened on her lips and forced her to blink away the silvery drops of moisture pooling on her eyelashes.
Ah, fook, but she is lovely.
It was too bloody much. He wanted to hit something.
“What now?” she asked.
He removed his hands from her tiny waist and let them fall to his sides. “We go inside and get warm.”
“Will we take a room?”
“Aye, but just until the storm passes.”
She turned away from him and began walking toward the front door while he handed Goliath over to a stable hand.
“We’ll use false names,” Lachlan told her as he caught up. “And it’s a good thing you look like a drowned cat. No one would take you for an heiress, looking as wretched as you do.”
It would help him if he could believe it.
“Thank you so very much for the generous compliment,” she curtly replied as he strode ahead to lead the way.
They entered the inn, which housed a taproom on the main floor, with dark paneling and hunting portraits on the walls. Lachlan took hold of Raonaid’s hand and approached the red-bearded barkeep.
“We need a room and a hot meal.”
The giant Lowlander waved a barmaid over. “Abigail, take these soggy travelers upstairs and ask them what they want to eat.” He wiped a cloth over the bar. “There are only two choices,” he added under his breath. “Stew and stew.” He lifted his eyes and regarded Lachlan steadily. “I’m Bill Anderson, and I’ll require payment in advance.”
